


Something Nice Back Home

by MaroonCamaro



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Everyone gets nostalgic, Gen, Maybe a Little Pining, No Smut, Season 3 winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/pseuds/MaroonCamaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a rough night on watch, but Daryl knows why it's worth his time to be in a cold metal box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Nice Back Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1lostone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/gifts).



> Just a little thing I wrote for 1lostone because she is awesome. 
> 
> Beta'd by my dear [ArchLucie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=archlucie), who is also awesome.

Daryl looked up at the bright silver moon. It wasn't even that late, maybe seven, but it was the middle of winter and the sun had gone down a good hour ago. The cold was biting though, almost more than the hunter could bear.

He wrapped his poncho a bit tighter and blew into his hands to try and warm them. If his senses weren't wrong he would guess it to be at least twenty degrees. Much too cold for the walkers to be a bother tonight. Daryl glanced at the fence and saw the few dead there leaned up against the metal, not moving.

He thought about walking closer to see if they would actually rouse, but figured it wasn't worth the risk. Besides, it was almost time for someone to come relieve him. He wasn't sure who it would be, nor did he care. He was fucking cold and wanted to leave this metal box.

Daryl felt the tower give a little shake and knew that Tyreese was coming up the ladder. He was about the only one that could rattle the metal building. Well, Rick could if he were pissed.

“Hey,” Daryl said as Tyreese's head popped through the hatch.

“Hey,” Tyreese answered.

“S'cold.”

“Yeah. Got my long underwear on.”

“Hm, good plan. It's too cold for the walkers, ain't seen one move since the sun went down.”

“That's good. Rick said something about shortening the shifts tonight because of the cold,” Tyreese said as he scanned the moonlit yard.

“Seems like a good idea.”

“Yeah, be nice if we could have a fire or something.” They both knew that would be a bad idea, not only because it would draw the walkers like a beacon, but also because you never knew about the live folks out there.

“See ya.” Daryl nodded his head in Tyreese's direction and started down the ladder. He couldn't wait to get back inside to the relative warmth of the prison.

Everyone was still in the cafeteria of C block, having just finished dinner. Although it was dark, it was way too early to sleep. Hershel had been telling bible stories the last few nights and Daryl about had his fill of it. He'd never really been very religious before and now he was having a hard time believing the benevolent God Hershel talked about would be capable of letting his flock live this kind of life.

Daryl would have just gone on to his place on the catwalk if that was going to be the case again tonight, but Beth seemed to have the floor instead. She was singing an old folk song, one that Daryl wasn't familiar with. Maggie knew it though and joined in during the chorus, their voices harmonizing perfectly and bouncing around the bare walls of the prison.

Waving Carol off, he went to their makeshift kitchen and made himself a small plate of rice and beans. There didn't seem to be too much meat left, so he let it be. Carl would probably eat it later.

He leaned against an inside wall and looked around the room as he ate. Carl and Michonne were looking through a stack of comics, talking about which superhero was better. Michonne was in the Spider-Man camp while Carl was all for Batman.

“I'm tellin' ya, Batman was cooler because he had all his cool gadgets and he was smart,” Carl was insisting.

“Well, Spider-Man was smart, he just didn't have all that money. And he was wicked funny, something Batman rarely was,” Michonne said with a cock of her head.

“Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can,” Rick sang softly to Judith.

Daryl'd always been a big fan of Hawkeye, not just because the superhero was an archer like he was, but because he fought to overcome his past to be a hero. He could admire a guy like that.

Looking over to Rick, he saw that the leader was busy playing with Judith. She had a bright smile on her face as she pulled on Rick's scraggly beard. Rick would pretend it really hurt and make mock pained faces, oblivious to the tender smiles some of the group gave the two.

Carol and Sasha were huddled together talking with Glenn. Glenn on his part couldn't take his eyes off Maggie. Not that that was unusual, Glenn and Maggie's eyes tracked the other whenever they were not within arm's length of each other. Much like he and Rick. But that was different. They always had each other's backs.

Daryl smiled at his leader, it was nice to see him so domesticated. Daryl would go on every run, kill every walker at the fence, just to keep Rick this way. Happy with his family around him, relaxed enough to sing a silly song to his baby.

“Rick! I love that! Did you watch Spider-Man when you were a kid?” Carol asked.

“Yeah! Every Saturday!” Rick said as he made a goofy face for a laughing Judith.

“Man, I miss Saturday morning cartoons,” Michonne sighed.

“I just miss TV,” Carl mused.

“David Letterman,” Carol said with a wistful smile.

“MTV,” Sasha said dreamily.

“Supernatural,” from Beth.

“Grey's Anatomy,” Maggie chimed in.

“Lost,” Glenn quirked his eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable groan. But no one was willing to start that discussion tonight.

“NCIS,” Rick said in a singsong voice.

“Star Wars,” Hershel piped up.

“That wasn't a TV show!” Michonne laughed.

“Well, whatever the one was with Spock then,” Hershel retorted.

“Not the same thing,” Rick corrected as Judith laid her head on her daddy's shoulder.

“People in outer space,” Sasha said with a shrug.

“Yes, but one is science fiction and one is science fantasy,” Michonne joined the debate.

“Splittin' hairs,” Sasha dismissed.

“Nah, Star Wars was about the bad things people can do to each other and Star Trek was about the good people could do. 'Sides, we wouldn't have cell phones or MRI's or Ipads without Star Trek,” Rick explained.

“Used to have 'em,” Sasha said sadly.

With that a quiet fell over the group, silently mourning the technology they would probably never see again, that Judith would never know. Daryl looked at the Coleman lantern brightly burning near Rick, wondering when it would become a relic in this new world for lack of fuel or replacement parts.

Rick stood up then, “Gonna put Judith down.”

Daryl grabbed the lantern to light the father's way to his cell. Rick gave a small nod of his head in acknowledgment. Daryl nodded too, he would always have his leader’s back. Even if it was just to light his way down a dark corridor to put his baby to bed.

Daryl stood next to Rick as the bearded man carefully lowered Judith in her crib, the scene heart-breakingly sweet. He would fight for this. For Rick to hold his baby, to put her to bed, to know she was safe enough to sleep outside his arms.

“Ya never said what show you missed most,” Rick said as he straightened up.

“Didn't watch too much TV,” Daryl said in his gruff way.

“Not even Saturday morning cartoons?”

“Yeah, sure. 'Til it wasn't cool no more.”

“Right, I guess Daryl Dixon was way too cool for cartoons.”

Daryl ducked his head and looked through his bangs. Rick was standing awful close to him right now. Almost too close, and if it had been anyone else, it would have been awkward. But there was no awkwardness between the two. Daryl wasn't sure what it was, but it was warm and familiar.

Daryl turned away, missing when Rick stretched out a hand to his friend, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Hey, goodnight man,” Daryl called over his shoulder as he went back to the cafeteria. “Live long and prosper.”

Rick laughed out loud at Daryl's raised hand, his fingers spread in the Vulcan salute.

“Good night, man,” Rick said.

Daryl turned back to see Rick run a hand over the downy softness of Judith's head, his eyes soft with love. Yeah, that was definitely worth standing in a cold metal box in the middle of winter.

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly stole the title, I'm sure Lost will know where it came from.


End file.
